


Sentiment

by VampyrePrince



Series: Unrequited [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:37:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampyrePrince/pseuds/VampyrePrince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary and John discuss he and Sherlock's relationship while Sherlock does some introspection in the cemetery. Mycroft makes an appearance, and so does their third brother's grave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sentiment

**Author's Note:**

> Best to read parts 1 and 2 in the series to understand this. 
> 
> I'm honestly not a fan of Mary, but for some reason when I write her I just happen to make her pleasant again. Probably some unconscious thing, but either way, my Mary is pretty cool and laid back :)

It had been nearly six weeks since he'd spoken to Sherlock, and John could feel his nerves on edge at the realization. He hadn't meant to run after that – not literally run, but it was still childish. He had snapped into reality after the initial buzz had worn off and stood from the red chair immediately, staring at the antique wallpaper before him, wondering just what in the hell he was doing. His best friend had pushed unwanted sexual advances upon him, although he hadn't really minded so much after the blood had rushed from his brain to his other head. That's exactly what John Watson was doing, thinking with his dick, and it was fucking selfish. He and Mary hadn't slept together for some time due to her pregnancy and John was starting to become sexually frustrated. That had to be the only reason he would have let Sherlock get away with as much as the man had already.

“John?” Mary poked her head into the examination room for the second time and eyed John carefully, his head on the desk as he drifted in and out of sleep. She smiled sadly and walked inside, closing the door quietly and approaching her husband to slide a hand through his hair. “John, wake up. It's past quitting time.” 

“Mary?” The doctor took in a sharp breath and yawned, leaning back in his chair and stretching wide. He smiled and then glanced at the clock, jumping out of his seat as he realized the time. “Oh god, I'm sorry. You must have been waiting for ages.” She giggled and shook her head.

“No, only about ten minutes. Was beginning to worry though. You alright?”

“Yeah, everything's fine.” John shot Mary a reassuring smile before grabbing his coat and bag. “Want to eat out tonight?”

“That would be lovely. I've been craving Chinese.”

“I can't wait until this pregnancy is over. You're costing me a fortune in rubbish food.” He chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist, leading her out of the office. 

* * *

“So, have you spoken to him lately?”

“To who?” John lifted his eyes from the menu and tried his best to look ignorant of the question, but he knew better. Mary was good at reading him and knew when he was completely full of it.

“You know exactly who I mean.” John pretended to focus back on his menu.

“Nope. Has it really been that long?” Mary snatched the folded paper from his hands and stared at him incredulously. 

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? I'm trying to enjoy my evening with you.”

“No, you're torn up about him and I can see it. You've been losing sleep and have been awfully quiet lately.” John glanced about and leaned in, speaking in a lowered voice.

“Mary, this isn't the time to talk about this. Can't it wait until we get home?”

“Promise you'll apologize to him.”

“Mary...”

“Promise. You have to apologize to him, John. He loves you and you're giving him mixed signals.”

“This is suddenly my fault? He's the one who dived on _me_.”

“You didn't exactly push him away, either.” Mary smiled knowingly and leaned back, tossing the menu back onto the table before John. “Be annoyed all you want, but you have to admit that he at least deserves an apology. Set him straight.”

“Alright, fine.” John took a deep breath and opened his menu once more. “It's quite weird, you know. You being all okay with this.” Mary smiled and took a sip of her tea.

“Do you love me?”

“What sort of... Yes, of course I love you. I married you.”

“Then that's all that matters. Just promise me you won't go running off with other women.” John sputtered a laugh and forgot about his menu, finally having decided and took Mary's hand in his.

“I'm not going to do that.” 

“Good. Tomorrow then. Time to kiss and make up!” 

“Jesus Mary...” Mary laughed as John fell back into his chair, rubbing his eyes as a light blush crept across his cheeks. Why he was attracted to these sorts of people he still couldn't figure out, but he wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. All he needed to do was remind himself of the man he was when he first moved back to London after the war, and that was all the reason he required.

* * *

The wind was still and all was calm and silent as Sherlock stepped out of the cab into the grass, leaning over to pay the fare and then watching as the cabbie drove off back into the city. He turned his coat collar up and faced the sad sight before him, the rows of ornate monuments and tombstones matching his very dark and lonely soul. He didn't really mind these sorts of places, cemeteries like this. They were quiet and peaceful, and no one was around to bother him or interrupt his thoughts. He used to visit them all the time when he was a teenager, although for the wrong reasons. It was the perfect place to hide his unsavory addictions at the time. It also gave him time to cry without being seen by Mycroft, who would have only sneered at his tears and call him weak.

The detective shook his head to rid his mind of the unpleasant thoughts and walked down the path, taking time to appreciate things that he otherwise wouldn't think twice about. He had seen enough of death throughout the years due to his work, but this was different. The bodies here were respectfully buried or entombed, the only thing left of their existence a slab of stone or statue with an especially sappy engraving to remind the world that they'd ever existed in the first place. He had been able to have a taste of that once, seen his own grave stone from afar as people stood around it crying, hanging their heads in sorrow. He was definitely not someone worth crying over, at least that was his train of thought on the matter. Crying did little to bring anyone back. He was even wondering quite recently why he brought himself back in the hospital. It had been solely for John. If John hadn't been there, he would be on the other side. He would have just given into death to be done. Sometimes life was tiring anyway, especially when it was filled with people that he couldn't trust.

Sherlock took in the cool air and it hit his lungs like ice. He had to stop that train of thought before it became destructive. It was useless emotion that accomplished nothing but failure, and Mycroft had informed him enough of his failures when he was a child. And speaking of the devil himself...

“Sherlock, I'm surprised. What brings you to such a desolate place?”

“I was coming here to think and be alone but I see that's no longer an option. What do you want?”

“Just checking up on you. Seeing that you're staying out of trouble. No one's heard from you in quite a while.” 

“It's only been a few weeks.” Sherlock began walking again, Mycroft twirling his umbrella not too far behind. They headed deeper into the cemetery, the trees leaning over the grounds as if to protect the place from unseen forces. They stopped before a gray marble tombstone, the name 'Holmes' etched in large fancy letters in the center. Mycroft arched an eyebrow and looked at his brother in amusement.

“Feeling sentimental, are we?”

“I'm not particularly prone to brotherly sentiment. I just need to think.” The detective shoved his hands into his pockets and stared down at the marbled stone, remembering the painful events that led to his brother's demise. He hadn't remained in contact with the man very often, wouldn't even remain in contact with Mycroft if he didn't need to. The only reason that Mycroft and he even communicated anymore was because of John. He had been the sole reason that Sherlock's nosy older brother became a regular in his life again. 

“It's a shame, really. It should serve as a perfect example as to why sentiment will get you nowhere.” The comment rolled off of Mycroft's tongue as if it were something said in passing. He stared up at the sky, seeming to remember a particularly displeasing event before he looked back to Sherlock. “I told you not to get involved. We've been through this already.”

“Don't act like you know what's been going on. Even you have limits.” Sherlock scowled and leaned against the tombstone as Mycroft handed him a cigarette and lighter. He breathed in the nicotine as if it were a pure wave of euphoria, closing his eyes and savoring the taste before slowly blowing a line of smoke from his lips.

“I have my ways of getting information, even you know that. Detective Inspector Lestrade, is it?” 

“Oh, so you've finally found yourself a goldfish?” The smugness was wiped clean from Mycroft's face, a look of irritation taking its place.

“The point is, Sherlock, that you need to stop this nonsense. You can't keep thinking with your heart. Being in love with John Watson is only going to compromise you. It already has.”

“You've nothing to worry about where John is concerned. That has already been dealt with.” 

“But I can still hear the pain in your voice. No matter how far John attempts to push you away you will still be stubborn. You need to stop this ridiculous chase and get a hold of yourself.” Before Sherlock could respond his phone buzzed in his pocket. Figuring that it was most likely Lestrade with a case, and he would definitely be chewing the man out for blabbing to his older brother, he slid the lock and held the phone to his ear. 

“This had better be at least a 6.” After a few minutes of silence Sherlock's face turned pale and he tensed, throwing his cigarette to the ground and stomping on it. “How in the hell did you know where I was?” He then looked to Mycroft, who smiled and turned to leave. Sherlock ended the call and watched after his brother as the man swung his umbrella over his shoulder.

“Tell him, Sherlock. This needs to end now.” 

Sherlock remained silent as he watched his brother fade into the distance, then as a familiar form came rushing up the path to greet the damned traitor. The detective leaned back and sat upon the tombstone, waiting impatiently as John came jogging up to him. “Come to tease me some more?”

“I came to apologize.” 

“Heard that before.” John crossed his arms and stared at the ground, unsure of what to say. Of course he hadn’t expected Sherlock to accept a simple apology offhand, but it was the only thing he could manage that would have made any sense. “You were making a pathetic attempt to apologize. Just helping if you were at a loss for words.”

“Yeah, I know. Look, we're both at fault in this. It's not just all me.”

“No would have been a simple solution to begin with instead of offering.”

“Hey now, I didn't offer anything.”

“Hmm, let's see... 'What do you need, Sherlock?'” John mentally slapped himself. Okay, so he had been at fault for that one. 

“Alright, yes, that was my fault. I'm sorry. But look, I was talking with Mary-”

“Always consulting with her now over our situation? Isn't that a bit strange for normal people?”

“She's under the impression that she sees something I don't, and I'm starting to figure out what that is.”

“Which is?” Sherlock's heart rate began to increase rapidly. This could either go one of two ways, and judging by the way John was struggling it wasn't going to be what he had initially expected. He fought with himself to ignore the hope that was resurfacing. John was so off and on that there was no way any confession of any sort could be solid truth, but if he actually managed to admit it on his own without any coaxing, without being under any pressure from Sherlock... Maybe, just maybe. 

The doctor took a deep breath and looked his friend in the eye. “I want to try this. Whatever this is. I can try. I was having so much trouble before because of my own insecurities about my sexuality, and because of Mary. I'm a married man, and my wife is just as loony as you are sometimes. She thinks that we should work this out, that we should stop bickering about it and do something.” 

Sherlock leaped from the tombstone and slid smoothly beside John, wrapping his arm about the doctor's waist and steering him towards the cemetery entrance. The shorter man flinched slightly but soon relaxed as he calmed himself, allowing the detective to pull him close. “If you are lying John Watson, you will be the next murder scene Lestrade may come across.”

“If it were anyone else I'd have probably run for the hills at that one.” They both giggled as they walked out to the road, Sherlock removing his arm to hail a cab. As they waited, Sherlock's phone buzzed once again. He looked at the number this time but found a single text instead.

_You are making a huge mistake. - Mycroft_


End file.
